


Dear Bobbi

by grapehyasynth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, hangin in bed, mentions of Perthshire, sweeties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:56:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Fitz imagine what they'd say about their new relationship to Hunter and Bobbi. (Couched in other fluffiness and only minor angst.) Set several hours after 3x17 ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Bobbi

_Sometime in the very near future..._

After several moments of peaceful silence, Jemma lets out a shaky breath, which tickles across Fitz’s bare chest. 

“Hey, what’s that about?” he asks, gently pushing the fringe of her hair back. 

“I just always thought when this happened, Daisy and Bobbi would be around. They’d the first people I’d tell.” 

“ _When_ this happened?” he teases, deflecting from the darkness behind her comment. 

“You know you’ll have to stop being surprised at some point.” 

“Never,” he says fiercely, only partially in jest, and wraps his arm around her neck like a headlock so he can kiss the top of her head. They are silent for a long moment, then he says quietly, “You’ll get a chance to tell them, someday. I believe it.” 

“When did you become such an optimist?” 

“About-” Fitz pulls away from her so he can crane to look at the clock on his dresser. “Six hours ago.” 

Her shy grin causes something to clench in his stomach. “When your favorite person in the world kissed some sense into you?”

“Hmm, in the universe, but yeah.” 

He expects this to produce another of her moony, wide-eyed looks, but instead she says, “I know you’re trying to distract me.” 

It’s his turn to sigh. “Bobbi and Hunter are safe. Probably. We’d have heard, otherwise, yeah? And Daisy... Coulson’s doing everything he can--” 

She sits up abruptly, holding the sheet to her chest with her bare back to him. His arm and side feel cold with the absence of her. “I should be in the lab. There must be something I can do -”

“The tests are running, Jemma, we have to wait until they’re finished anyways-” 

“Doesn’t it feel wrong, to you, Fitz? This?” she cries, twisting the sheet as she turns to him. She sees his face and rushes to clarify. “Not - not _this_ , of course not this, but just - that as everything was going wrong, we were - the building was falling down around us!” She gestures to the plaster dust covering his floor and desk from the earlier quakes. “How can we-” 

“No,” Fitz says more forcefully than he intended. She looks at him, hurt and confused and vulnerable as she only allows herself to be with him, so he sits up and scoots down to reach her. “You don’t get to do that. I won’t let you. You deserve happiness, Jemma Simmons. You can’t help Daisy just yet. We established that before we did anything else. And you definitely can’t help her by staying up all night worrying. Besides,” and he wraps his arms around her sideways, knitting his fingers together on her far hip and resting a chin on her warm shoulder, “if we’re going to stay up all night, we might as well spend it patching things up between us.” 

“Patching things up?” She laughs in spite of herself. “Is that what you’d call this?” She gestures to the mussed sheets and their clothes on the floor. 

“I just know that whatever happens next, I don’t want either of us to have regrets. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m the one who has to say this. You were the one who jumped my bones not too long ago.” 

She laughs again, more fully this time, and turns to kiss him. It is slow and deep but self-aware, its preciousness not lost on either of them. 

He coaxes her back to the pillows and lays back as she props herself up on an elbow, looking down at him. 

“Well, if I deserve to be happy, then you, Leopold Fitz, deserve to know that this is real. We are endgame, or whatever it is Doug always says. I meant what I said about Perthshire.” 

He’d thought she had forgotten. He takes a deep, involuntary breath. She sees and her face softens and the tips of her fingers settle in the dip in his chest between his ribs, moving back and forth. Even after all they’ve said and done it’s startlingly intimate. 

“It’d be nice to be near my mum,” he says quietly. 

“Just imagine us, 70 and all wrinkly and still playing with dangerous chemicals in our garden shed.” 

“70? You’re really hedging your bets with me.” 

“You’re stuck with me, Fitzy.” She drops onto his chest and his arm closes automatically around her shoulders. 

It amazes them both, after so many years of tip-toeing around the edges of this place, to finally be here together and to find that everything they for so long couldn’t say comes as easy as breathing. 

“Hey, what would you tell Bobbi, if we could reach her?” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to hear that girl talk,” she says dismissively. 

“No, really. Pretend you could - send her an email, or something. ‘Dear Bobbi.’ Come on, Simmons, help me out. ‘Dear Bobbi...’” She just laughs, so he continues in an attempt at her prim accent, “‘Well, it finally happened. I told Fitz how absolutely mad I am for him and one thing led to another and we made sweet passionate love-’” 

“Stop!” she cries against his shoulder, torn between anguish and giggles. 

“‘He’s everything I imagined and more. When he looks at me-’”

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk, just - stop doing that thing you call an accent! You’d think after years with me you’d at least have picked up on that much, even if you were blind to everything else about me.” 

“Hey-” 

“‘Dear Bobbi,’” she interrupts, raising her eyebrows at him as if daring him to keep talking. He sticks his tongue out but his lips twitch with a smile. “‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Fitz and I finally got over what fools we’ve been and are together. Like, together together.’” 

“You are so mature-”

“‘I’m sure you can imagine, after everything we talked about when you and I came back from Hydra, what it feels like to finally reach this point with him. Back then, I didn’t think he’d ever trust me even as a friend again, but... Well, we’re focusing on the future now. Wish you could be here. Know that we’re always thinking of you. Be safe. Lots of love, Jemma Simmons.’” 

“Know a lot of Jemmas, does she?” he mumbles into her hair. “You needed to clarify which one?” 

“And Hunter?” She pushes away again to grin at him. “How would that conversation go?” 

Fitz makes a phone with his hand and pretends to dial. “Beep boop beep beep-” He covers an imaginary mouthpiece and whispers to Jemma, “It’s ringing.” 

“Not a wrong number then, that’s a start.” 

“‘Hey, Hunter. What’s up?’” 

Jemma laughs. “I’ve never heard you say 'what’s up' in our lives--” 

“‘Just wanted to let you know- I know you said to keep you updated on Operation Science Nerds, and, well, mission accomplished. Yep. Yeah. Alright, I’ll give Jemma your love. Say hi to Bobbi. Over and out.’” 

“That’s not--” She shoves him playfully, and they’re both laughing now. “Hunter’s more of a gossip than Bobbi when it comes to this stuff. It’d be more like-” She drops her voice dramatically and plays both parts of the conversation. “‘Hey Hunter-’ ‘Fitz, you beauty, so good to hear your voice.’ ‘Hey, you’ll never guess-’ ‘You finally get together with Jemma?’ ‘How’d you know?’ ‘Fitz, I told you when I suggested that documentary that she was ready for more. If you’d've just listened to me you would’ve saved both of you weeks of unnecessary pining and self-completion.’” 

“Jemma, gross!” Fitz groans. 

“‘Next time I’ll listen to you, Hunter.’ ‘You’re happy though, mate?’” 

“‘Deliriously,’” Fitz cuts in. 

“‘That’s all I ever wanted for you, mate.’” Jemma looks down at him, her voice returning to normal register though she’s still acting out the conversation. “‘Wish I could be there. We could double date, you and Jemma, me and Bob. I need to buy you a drink to celebrate.’ ‘We will someday, Hunter. That’s a promise. Jemma and I are going to get a cottage in Scotland-’ ‘Of course you are, you nerds-’ ‘And you and Bobbi can pretend to be long-lost relatives or something and swing by for a weekend.’ ‘I’d like that. We both would.’ ‘Well, I’ll see you, Hunter.’ ‘Bye, Fitz.’” 

They look into each other’s eyes, smiles settling into something more thoughtful. 

“Do you think they know?” Fitz asks quietly, running his hand up and down Jemma’s arm. 

She nods firmly. “They know. Or they will soon. Coulson will make sure to tell them, somehow.” 

He snorts. “Do we all just assume that Coulson doesn’t care about Section 69?” 

She laughs. “Fitz! It’s definitely not Section _69_.” 

“Do you know the number, then?” 

“No, but that's besides the point. Bobbi said Coulson gave Hunter a lecture about it but he never mentioned it again.” 

“I’m not too fussed about it. I’ll fight him if I have to.” 

She cackles at the mental image. “You against Coulson? Oh, I’ll start taking bets on that one.” 

“Alright now, a little support!” 

“I bet Hunter has Spidey senses when it comes to us,” she says thoughtfully, settling back against his side. “Some sort of extrasensory perception-” 

“ _Spidey senses_? Who are you and what have you done with my Jemma?”

“Your Jemma,” she repeats as if trying it out, her lips moving against his chest. 

“I didn’t mean to sound possessive-”

“No, I like it. _My Fitz_.” 

“Hey.” He extends a fist at her, and her brows furrow. “Perthshire or bust?” 

Grinning, she drives her own fist into hers before simulating an explosion. “Perthshire or bust.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr! I'm grapehyasynth over there as well.


End file.
